by June Faver
“I’m sure they’ll find something.” Reggie gave Gayle an encouraging smile. “I just want you to know that I appreciate you for taking on the new challenges. Writing the obituaries takes a load off of me…and writing the feature story on the day care is a giant step forward. I know I can count on you to give it your best.”
Gayle seemed to be floating when she left the office, clasping the obituary in both hands.
It felt great to be able to make someone happy. Maybe this would occur more often when she got more comfortable in her own job.
Reggie exhaled and turned back to her desk. She couldn’t remember what she had been doing before Frank came in, but it must have been important. Her gaze lit on the images on the monitor. Oh, yes. The Grady house project. She checked out her bulletin board pinnings and decided they looked great. At least they’d looked great to Frank.
She sat down, still feeling flushed from her encounter with Frank. How could one man be so incredibly delicious?
Back to business. She scrolled back to the first of Milton’s photos and felt her stomach catch. There on her monitor was the image of a shirtless Frank, intent upon swinging his hammer. Her mouth felt dry. Oh, my! Scrolling down she saw that there were three photos of her hunky boss, each more delectable than the last. Slowly, she remembered how to breathe and hit save. Can’t take a chance on misplacing these…some of Milton’s finest work.
Reggie let out a little chortle and then printed all three pictures. Eye candy for a rainy day. As she stared at each image, her chest filled with a sense of longing that was almost painful. She exhaled slowly and, gathering the images, slid them into her top desk drawer. I should file them under Lost Causes.
Reaching for the music box, she pulled out the stem and let the tinkling strains of “Clair de Lune” take her to a place where she could be in Frank’s arms again.
Reggie Lee managed to focus her attention on her remodeling project, checking and rechecking her design and the colors she had chosen. She stepped back, feeling pleased with herself. She thought Miss Rosie Bell Grady would be pleased as well.
Seating herself at her desk, she glanced at her email. A little smile gathered on her lips. There he is.
A new message from Mr. Nice Guy had just arrived in her inbox. She opened it eagerly, anxious to learn about his success with his coworker.
Dear Irene,
I want to thank you for your great advice concerning my relationship with my coworker. You will be happy to know that I followed your advice and she was receptive. At least we’re friends now. I don’t know what to do next. How can I let her know that I love her? How do I show her how I feel about her?
Mr. Nice Guy
Reggie stared at the computer screen. He loves her. She felt the sting of tears. He loves her.
If only Frank felt that way about her. Well, at least she might be able to help Mr. Nice Guy.
Dear Mr. Nice Guy, she began.
It’s good that your coworker was receptive to your initial overtures. If you want this relationship to go forward, I suggest you become sensitive to her needs. Listen carefully to learn what she really wants. What are her goals and dreams? Then you can decide if you have a place in her life.
Sincerely,
Irene
She read it over one more time, imagining a shy clerk or insurance salesman totally in love with a colleague. She printed it out to publish in this week’s issue. How sweet is this? She hoped they would find true happiness…and they would owe it all to Dear Irene.
Chapter 9
When Frank arrived back at his home, he sat in his BMW for a few minutes, gazing at the charming Victorian. He had taken it for granted, not realizing that it had value to anyone other than him. Of course, the property had value as real estate, but it also had historical value and a special value to the Rambling community as the home of a beloved citizen.
He was amazed that Reggie Lee had jumped on his proposed project with such enthusiasm. It was going to be costly, for sure…but if this brought him closer to Reggie, it would be worth it.
Frank climbed out of his vehicle and stretched his arms wide. He strolled up onto the front porch and settled in one of the wicker rocking chairs. “Well, what do you think, Aunt Rosie?” He set the other rocker in motion, imagining her amused smile over his conundrum. “I wish you were here to tell me what to do.”
The day was pleasant, and he could see a platoon of small yellow butterflies flying around Aunt Rosie’s pink hibiscus. He noted that the grass needed to be cut and wondered if there was a mower somewhere in the shed but then realized his great-aunt must have had a lawn service due to her advanced years.
But he recalled his boyhood, when mowing the lawn had been one of his tasks. How he had relished Aunt Rosie’s words of praise when he was finished. She’d always made him feel loved…appreciated…like a better person in her eyes.
Everyone needs to feel important to someone.
He realized he had been happy here in the Texas Hill Country. Really happy. He wondered how his life might have turned out had Aunt Rosie not insisted he go to college and then encouraged him to pursue his law degree. Could he have been the one to marry Reggie Lee and make babies with her?
“No, she hated me.”
But now, he was here and had a second chance with her. Just don’t screw this up.
“What does she need?” He stared off into space, picturing her lovely face as he had last seen it…a little flushed and a little turned on. Yeah, that’s the way I want to keep you.
She needs…approval. She needs challenges. She needs love and passion in her life… She needs me.
Frank sat up straight. “She needs me.” He smiled, suddenly aware of what he should do. Reaching in his pocket, he took out his cell to call Reggie at the Gazette. When he asked to speak to Reggie Lee Stafford, he could hear the smile in the receptionist’s voice.
“Why, certainly, Mr. Bell. Just one moment.”
Busted!
“Hello, Frank.” Reggie sounded slightly out of breath.
He grinned, unable to contain it. “Hi, Reggie. I—um, I thought maybe we could have lunch together tomorrow.”
“Lunch?”
“Yeah, to discuss the remodel. Can you pencil me in?”
She laughed at that. “Sure. I can squeeze you into my busy schedule.”
“Great. I’ll pick you up at noon.” He disconnected before she could ask any questions.
* * *
Henry Stafford took a longneck out of his cooler and flipped the cap off as his friend Sheriff Vern Garland pulled up in his 1969 Camaro, a totally cherry automobile if ever one rolled off the assembly line. “Hey, Vern!”
“Hey yourself, Henry. Good to see ya.” The sheriff walked to where Henry was seated in a folding chair under an oak tree at the park. Several of the other area owners of classic cars were gathering to discuss their upcoming parade and car show.
Henry gestured to the folding chair he had brought for his friend. “Sit yourself down, Vern, and help yourself to a beer.”
Vern rooted around in the cooler and removed a longneck for himself. “Thanks, Henry. I needed this.” He flipped off the cap and then gathered it up and tucked it in his pocket. “My daughter, Jill, is trying to save the world by recycling everything, so she’s got me trained.”
“Good job. We recycle too.” Henry clinked his bottle against the sheriff’s.
The sheriff gave out a hearty laugh. “I guess our girls are gonna save the world together.” They admired each other’s rides and commented on the other cars as they pulled up.
“How are things at home?” Vern asked. “Jill tells me that your little girl got a big job promotion.”
Henry leaned back, his chest filling with pride. “That’s right. My Reggie Lee is the brand new editor of the Rambling Gazette.”
The sheriff’s br
ows drew together. “I bet that came as a surprise.”
“Big surprise,” Henry admitted. “If the old editor hadn’t been such a crook, it never would have happened.” He took a long drink of the beer, enjoying the cold froth rolling down his throat. He had gathered an assortment of good-quality beer from his store just for this occasion.
“So I heard, but the building owner wouldn’t press charges.” The sheriff wagged his head in wonderment. “I could have sent that buzzard to jail. But the boy who inherited the building just wanted to let him off the hook.” He heaved a big huff of air and shook his head. “He said he didn’t want anything to mar the newspaper because it was his great-aunt’s pet project. She had given the Gazette free rent to make sure there was a newspaper for this community.”
Henry considered this information. “I have to admire that. Miss Rosie was a sweetheart.”
“Yeah, but I really wanted to prosecute the guy.” Vern’s mouth turned down into a scowl. “We don’t get a lot of white-collar crime here in Rambling.”
“Not that I can recall,” Henry agreed pleasantly. He figured most of the lawbreakers Vern and his men apprehended were motorists speeding through Rambling. Or a few drunk and disorderlies at the local bars and the occasional domestic dispute. Other than those misdeeds, Rambling was a pretty quiet place…and he liked it like that.
“What did you think of the guy who inherited from Miss Rosie? How did he impress you?”
Vern considered this. “He seemed okay, for a city boy. You know, fancy suit, handmade shoes.” He shook his head. “Totally different set of values.”
“But he was raised right here,” Henry insisted. “Miss Rosie brought him up. You think he’s changed?”
Vern shrugged. “Aw, I really didn’t know him as a boy. Miss Rosie was very proud of him though. He must have been pretty smart because he graduated from some important law school.”
Henry finished off his beer and placed the empty in a bag. “There’s Richard. That old Chrysler looks better. He’s working on it.”
“Hot damn!” Vern said. “This car show is gonna be a pip!”
* * *
True to his word, Frank arrived promptly at noon the next day. He strode to Reggie’s office and tapped on the frame of her open door.
Reggie had been watching for him out the window but had managed to sit down at her desk and grab a couple of papers to pretend she was hard at work. She glanced up, trying to appear casual, but when she saw his expression, her breath caught in her throat. “Frank,” she croaked out. “Right on time. Let me get my purse.” She gathered the folder containing her ideas for the house update and her handbag.
He gazed at her fondly, seeming to devour her with his eyes. He extended his hand.
She longed to run to him but sucked in a deep breath to control herself. Rising sedately, she tucked her purse under her arm and walked to the door. It didn’t appear as though he would move aside, standing in the doorway until she was right in front of him. She lifted her gaze to meet his and, for a moment, thought he was going to kiss her, but he stepped aside, gesturing for her to pass.
Head high, she ignored the surreptitious glances that followed their passing. I’m going to lunch with this hot guy to discuss updating his house. That’s all.
Once outside, she drew a breath of fresh air and pressed her shoulders down from where they had climbed up to her ears…or so it seemed.
He opened the door to his BMW and handed her in. She pulled in her legs, noting with pleasure that Frank’s eyes followed her movement with an admiring expression. She sighed and sank down into the leather seat.
“Buckle up,” he said as he slid into the driver’s seat and started the car. “I want to keep you safe.”
His words caused her insides to tumble. Keep me safe?
He drove a couple of blocks and turned into the park near Babes in the Woods, Shannon’s preschool. He made a wide turn and pulled into a parking space. “I hope you’re hungry.”
She chortled. “Hungry enough to eat a cow but not graze on grass.”
“Not to worry.” He popped the trunk and climbed out. “I chose some delicacies for your dining pleasure. Follow me, mademoiselle.” He gathered a large basket from the trunk and opened her door.
He looked so pleased with himself, she had to laugh. Placing her hand in his, she allowed him to pull her from the low-slung car. She tucked her hand in the crook of his arm and walked beside him to a picnic table. It felt oddly companionable, as though they had done this before, but at the same time exciting.
“Your table, mademoiselle.” He made a grand gesture, complete with a bow from the waist.
She slid onto the concrete bench, eyeing the large basket expectantly. “That looks extravagant.”
“I wanted to spoil you.” He flipped the top off the basket, removing a linen tablecloth which he spread out in front of her. He then removed a bottle of champagne wrapped in a linen napkin from the basket.
“Champagne in the middle of the day?” She flushed when he cocked his head to one side and grinned. He must think I’m such a hick.
“I think you deserve it.” He set about peeling off the foil and popped the cork. A froth of liquid trailed over his hand, spilling onto the napkin. He poured a small amount into a slender crystal flute. “Just taste it.”
So this is not a plastic-cup-and-paper-plate kind of picnic. She accepted the flute and took a sip. “Oh, my. That’s wonderful.”
He nodded, then filled her flute and one for himself. Raising his glass, he gave her a wink. “To you, Reggie, my very dear and talented friend. You’ve done so much to—to make my life better.” He clinked his flute against hers and then sipped, his gaze locked on hers.
A shiver that must have registered on the Richter scale rippled through her body. She swallowed hard. “Thanks.” Lifting her flute, she let the champagne roll down her throat.
“Slow down… Take it easy.” He took the empty flute from her fingers. “Let me serve you some food.”
She nodded, feeling a bit numb. The champagne created a warming sensation in her chest and bubbled up her throat. To her embarrassment, she let out a loud belch. “Oh, sorry.” She felt her face flood with warmth.
“No big deal.” He continued to remove items from the basket and place them in front of her. Opening a packet of round crackers, he spread them on a plate before reaching for a small glass jar with a shiny lid. He spilled some of the contents onto the plate. “This is Sevruga caviar. I hope you like it.”
Reggie stared at the plate. Thin white crackers and grainy-looking black stuff. Her throat convulsed. “I’ve never tasted caviar before.”
His grin went wall-to-wall. “Then you’re in for a treat.” He picked up one of the crackers and spooned a generous dab of black stuff onto it. “Try this.”
She stared at the glop-covered cracker he extended to her. “Isn’t this very expensive?”
“Oh, no. This is the cheaper one. Beluga is the most expensive.”
Reggie opened her mouth reluctantly as Frank held his offering closer. The cracker was flaky, and the caviar was delicious. “Mmm… Why didn’t I know about this before?”
He chortled and loaded another cracker with caviar. “Well, now you do.”
“Why are you doing all this?” She waved her hands to include the champagne and caviar.
“Because I just realized it’s about time someone spoiled you.” He lifted the cracker to her lips, and she opened her mouth like a baby bird as he gently placed the cracker on her tongue. “I decided that someone would be me.”
Reggie’s heart did a tumble and roll in her chest. She almost choked on the food in her mouth. The idea that Frank wanted to spoil her was both pleasing and terrifying. How could he so easily slide into the role of “spoiler”? And why did he feel she was worthy of his pampering? He seemed to be sincere, but some tiny
kernel of doubt flickered in the back of her brain. Some leftover mistrust of Franklinstein.
“Ready for the main course?”
She nodded, wondering if he planned to hand-feed her the rest of the meal.
* * *
Just before the end of the day, Gayle was surprised when Paul Harmon entered the building, smiling shyly. He greeted her with a timid wave.
Somehow this really appealed to her. “Hi, Paul.” She couldn’t help but smile.
He leaned his forearms on the countertop, grinning at her. The silence stretched on.
“Um, is there something I can do for you?”
“I wanted to thank you for your kindness.” He gazed at her, his eyes like liquid chocolate.
She grinned. “No thanks necessary. This is my job.”
“Oh, well, I brought you a little present.” He pushed a small wrapped package across the counter to her.
“I’m not sure I’m allowed to accept presents.” She eyed the clumsily decorated item.
He swallowed hard. “It’s nothing really. Just a little token.”
She opened the package and found a small gold charm. It was a filigree heart. “This is lovely, but I can’t accept it. It’s way too much.”
He shook his head. “No, really. I just wanted to show my appreciation for all that you’ve done…”
“Well, thank you for thinking of me, but this is really not…”
“Oh, uh…well, I haven’t found my dog yet.”
“Your dog? You mean Valerie?” She gazed at him, expecting him to correct her, but no…
“Yes, my dog Valerie.”
Hmm…something isn’t right here… “I thought you said her name was Violet.” She gazed at him steadily. “What’s going on here?”
He turned red from his hairline to his neck. “Um…I have to go now.” With that, he turned and almost ran out the door.
Gayle stood at the counter, holding the lovely gold charm, her mouth slightly agape, and a million questions racing through her head.
